I woke up today for the first time in my new apartment on Dekalb Avenue. Yesterday, I finally packed up all my stuff into boxes and bags when I ran out of boxes and said my goodbyes to my last apartment, the home I had created with Jacob on Meserole Street. It was a sad goodbye. I am still angry, more so than at first actually. All of the reasons he had told me he wanted to break up were lies - independence, being single, making more art, more time alone, etc. The day after - literally the day after - he broke up with me he started hanging out with M, who he is now dating. The fact that I have just been traded out for another boyfriend, another sort of domesticity, is quite depressing. If he were slutting it up across town, I would take more comfort from that, feel less hurt. As is, I am quite upset with him and don't think I need to be hanging out with him anymore. But that's an insanely depressing prospect to think of, that the boy who has been my constant companion and source of comfort for the last three years will no longer be in my life. I think it is probably for the best though.
I am not good at goodbyes.
Brendan and I packed up a UHaul van full of my stuff and I told Brendan that I would run upstairs and grab the last bag and say goodbye to Jacob. I took a look at the apartment, half empty, looking ransacked, and a flood of memories from the last two and a half years all came pouring over me. I suddenly found myself incapable of even speaking. I wanted to say a nice cordial goodbye to Jacob, but I couldn't even talk. My eyes swelled with water and my throat was blubbering, wanting to ball that this period of my life was now officially over and done, that there would be no going back any longer. I gave Jacob a hug as I held back tears and then I left, a sad, sad walk out of this building that from this moment on would no longer be my home.
Brendan and I drove away toward my new apartment, van full of my belongings. I turned on the radio. Al Green's "So Tired of Being Alone" came on. I immediately changed it to a Spanish station, my Spanish not good enough to understand what probably were some equally lovesick lyrics. At some point, one of the songs had an English chorus about love. There was not even respite here on the Spanish station. I turned the radio to a pop station as we got closer to my new apartment. As we circled looking for a parking spot, Taylor Swift's "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" started playing, which was a little easier to swallow, its anthemic vocals proudly, not sadly, declaring the end of a relationship.
We unloaded all of the cargo into my new apartment. My neighbor across the hall, Spanish grandmother, came out into the hallway, nosy to see what was going on, and before introducing herself told us that if we were going to smoke weed in our apartment, then we needed to burn incense, that she has a 15 year old grandson she is trying to protect. It might be added that we were not smoking weed, or about to, but just moving boxes up a flight of stairs.
Once we had moved everything out of the van, we got back in the van to return it, and Pink's "Blow Me (One Last Kiss)" was playing on the radio. So insanely appropriate. I cranked it up loud and we cruised down Knickerbocker Avenue in the UHaul van.
Susan Miller has told me that for the last three years Saturn has occupied the fifth house of true love and romance. She has pointed out that on October 15th, a new moon, today, I would see a release of the last three years. When I read her monthly horoscope a couple days ago, my mind was blown with the specificity with which she talks about the events in my life over the last three years.
I am alive, folks! That means everything. I made it out of my last apartment. I have suffered a brutal and swift end to what was an ideal love for me and there were many days when the news seemed unbearable, something I would never recover from. But there are silly pop songs that have helped me raise my head higher. There are people who told me to get out of my apartment, who told me to, yes, sign this lease even if it seems expensive, just do it. There are people who helped me pick up furniture from Queens, from South Brooklyn, from my old apartment, and I am so appreciative of it. And life goes on. Yes, it does. It's a new moon today. I am starting over and not looking back anymore.